


Be a Good Baby, Do What I Want

by JackEPeace



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/F, Ladies Loving Ladies, Lana del Rey would approve, Porn Without Plot, bit of a daddy kink lbr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 07:39:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13209060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/pseuds/JackEPeace
Summary: “I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Ava says in a voice that seems the perfect contradiction for her words.“Sometimes the bad ideas are the best ones.”





	Be a Good Baby, Do What I Want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plinys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/gifts).



> This is for Jess, who is the reason I have a daddy kink now. 
> 
> Title from "Off to the Races" by Lana del Rey

“You aren’t so bad when you relax a bit,” Sara observes from across the island countertop in the center of the kitchen, elbows resting on the counter, a beer bottle hanging loosely from her fingers. “You should let your hair down more often.”

Ava frowns at her, which Sara is starting to think is the default expression on Ava’s face. “Are you speaking metaphorically or literally?”

Sara tilts her head as she considers the question. Hours ago, they were hanging around with Vikings, drinking their mead and trying to convince them to give up a stuffed alien freak doll. And after that-

_You needed me._

Well.

Sara takes a drink from her beer just to give herself something to do. It’s mostly empty but she hopes Ava doesn’t notice.

“Both,” Sara says decisively, after a beat.

“I was under cover,” Ava replies, smoothing her hands self-consciously down the front of her blazer. Sara is almost disappointed to see the old Ava back again: hair twisted on top of her head, pantsuit impeccable, sharp heels on her feet.

Actually, the heels are nice. She’s not going to complain about those.

“You could be under something else,” Sara says because she can’t help herself. She could blame it on the beer or the fact that she’s always had poor impulse control or the sting that Jax’s absence has left behind in her chest. Spin the wheel, roll the dice, pick your excuse of choice.

Ava’s face shifts into more of a scowl, which is impressive. “Do you ever take anything seriously?”

Sara scoffs, standing up straighter, tossing her bottle into the trashcan. She nearly misses, which is embarrassing. “I’m always serious.”

Ava lifts her chin slightly, watching Sara as she moves across the kitchen, the way a deer might watch a panther.

No, Sara thinks, the way a panther might what one of its own kind.

She likes that image much more.

“You’re a serious pain in the ass,” Ava says finally, her eyes following Sara even though the rest of her body remains relaxed, aloof. Though Sara recognizes false confidence when she sees it. “So that’s true.”

Sara crosses her arms as she studies Ava. “Do you usually think about my ass, Agent Sharpe?” She questions. “That doesn’t exactly seem professional.”

Ava rolls her eyes. “You make it difficult to be professional, _Miss_ Lance.”

“It’s Captain, actually,” Sara tells her, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. “Do I make you nervous?”

Ava scoffs, too loudly, too quickly. “Nervous? Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” She might have gotten away with the bravado if she had stopped there. But she adds, “Why would you make me nervous?”

Sara studies her for a beat, sorting out the situation. She’s been here so many times before, in that strange limbo moment where she’s making eyes at the girl across the room, trying to decide if it’s real. Most women, she’s found, are far from resistant when faced with someone like her across from them, someone with a knowing smirk and the assurance that she can take care of them. Even if it’s just for a night.

When she looks at Ava, Sara isn’t entirely sure what she sees. A woman with her hair pulled back too tight, a suit so sharp it could be used as weapon, a carefully perfected non-expression. Someone closed off and purposefully so.

Someone she wants to push in all the right ways but not far enough to break.

Sara tells herself it’s because of the awkwardness of inevitable future encounters; that it’s because Ava could make life hell for the Legends if Sara somehow misinterpreted the looks, the comments, the tension taunt between them.

She tells herself that’s all that she cares about.

Even still, the temptation is there.

Blame it on the beer.

The rush of another successful mission.

The empty ache inside of her chest that is never, ever going to get smaller.

The cause is hardly important. Sara only cares about the effect.

And so, Sara does the only logical thing. She steps into Ava’s space, crossing that line, making her intentions clear. Ava doesn’t move away, doesn’t turn her head, just lets her eyes burn into Sara’s, a challenge there in her gaze.

So Sara does what she always does when faced with a challenge -she responds.

Ava is taller than she is but Sara steps closer, pushes against her, lifts her face to Ava’s and kisses her. Ava responds immediately without even a single second of hesitation and the kiss is hot and searing and when Sara opens her mouth to deepen it, the sensation of Ava’s tongue against her own makes heat pool, fast and sudden, into the lower part of her stomach.

Sara pushes her backward, taking control in the way that she’s wanted to do since Ava first showed up to ruin her run as captain. Sara pushes Ava against the counter, smirking with small satisfaction when Ava’s hands reach out behind her, holding onto the counter to steady herself.

Ava pulls in a deep breath when they finally move away, just enough, her chest rising and falling heavily. She licks her lips, almost as though she can’t believe the taste of Sara there on them. “I don’t know if this is a good idea,” she says in a voice that seems the perfect contradiction for her words.

Husky and shaky, a faltering attempt at regaining the upper hand in the situation.

Sara doesn’t want her to get the upper hand back, at least, not right now. Not yet.

“Sometimes the bad ideas are the best ones,” Sara says as she moves closer, pressing her body flush against Ava’s.

It feels good to have Ava there against her, a solid presence that does little to help ease the heat in her stomach, or the longing pooling between her thighs.

Ava looks at her and swallows, her hands still tight around the edges of the counter. “Sara-”

Sara looks at her, letting her eyes linger on her lips before dragging them up to meet Ava’s. “Yes, Agent Sharpe?”

Another swallow. But Sara doesn’t get an answer. Instead, Ava is kissing her again and any type of resistance, real or feigned, is gone completely. The kisses are fast, deep and frenzied, full of longing, like this thing has been building between them for longer than either of them realized. Sara presses herself closer and can feel Ava arch up to meet her, her hips pressed against the counter, immobile because of Sara on her other side.

Sara kisses the underside of her jaw, along the side of her neck, sucking on the pulse point at the curve of her neck and shoulder. She’ll leave a mark, but the noise that Ava makes, low in her throat, suggests that she doesn’t exactly care.

Sara reaches up, her hands tugging the bun loose on the top of Ava’s head, sending her hair spilling down her shoulders, against Sara’s lips. “Better,” Sara says against Ava’s skin and Ava only nods, making that sound again. “Much better.”

Or, almost. There are still a few things Sara would like to change.

She reaches first for the buttons on Ava’s blazer but when Ava pushes against her, an involuntary rocking of her hips, Sara forgets any sort of semblance of patience and tugs, popping the buttons, giving her access to the white, collared shirt beneath the dark blazer.

Ava gasps, though Sara isn’t sure if it’s in protest or approval. But the noise that she makes when Sara tugs up her shirt, pressing her hands to the smooth expanse of her stomach and her lips to the skin above her breasts, is definitely a sound of approval.

The sounds, breathy and low and desperate, are exactly the type of noises Sara has wanted to see if Ava was capable of making. She nips against her clavicle, soothing the spot with her tongue and lips until she can feel Ava trembling against her, whimpering. “Please,” Ava says, one hand still holding tightly to the counter, the other twisted in Sara’s hair. “Please.”

Sara lifts her head, taking in the woman in front of her. Her shirt is twisted and rucked up, her skin flushed and reddening with spots in the shape of Sara’s mouth. Her hair is falling wild past her shoulders, her pupils dark and blown with longing.

“Please what?” Sara asks, pressing her palm against the zipper of Ava’s slacks, though she does little more than that. Ava rocks her hips, searching for friction, closing her eyes, and instead of answering Sara’s question she just whimpers again. Sara decides to take pity on her, though she quite likes the sight of Ava begging her. “You want me to fuck you?”

Ava nods without hesitation. “Yes, Daddy.”

They both freeze then and Ava’s eyes open, an expression of surprise and growing horror on her face. Sara feels her lips curl up into a smirk even as she has to press her own thighs together. She feels bad for teasing Ava because she feels a little like she might combust herself.

Ava swallows and says, “I mean-”

But Sara doesn’t give her the chance, pressing her palm against Ava again, getting her to gasp. “You want Daddy to fuck you, hmm?” She says against the shell of Ava’s ear.

Ava whimpers, nods. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Sara says, toying with the zipper on her pants.

“Yes, Daddy,” Ava replies quietly, obediently. “Fuck me, Daddy.”  

“I can do that,” Sara assures her, sliding down the zipper, slipping her hand into Ava’s pants. She can feel how wet Ava is, how she’s already soaked through her underwear, tangible proof of her desire.

Sara manages to use her free hand to push Ava’s pants down to her knees, wedging her body closer to Ava’s, sliding a single finger along the length of Ava’s clit. Ava groans, bucking her hips, her hand tightening in Sara’s hand. She whimpers in disappointment when Sara pulls her finger away, opening her eyes.

Sara slides the finger into her mouth, tasting Ava on her tongue. Ava’s lips part slightly, her cheeks flushed, her eyes fixed on Sara as she slips the finger out of her mouth once more. “We’ll save that for round two,” Sara says, mostly because she just wants to feel Ava right now, just like this, pinned against her and the counter, coming undone on her fingers.

The sound that Ava makes when Sara slips a finger inside her is almost enough to make Sara groan, though she manages to hide the sound against the curve of Ava’s neck. She can feel the rapid beating of Ava’s heart, the sharp pull of her breath as Sara slides her finger out, only to push it inside again.

Ava moves her hips in time to Sara’s movement, panting as her nails dig into Sara’s scalp. “More,” Ava grunts, tipping Sara’s head back so that they can look at each other. “Please.”

Sara stills her movements, smirking. Ava groans, pushing her hips against Sara’s. But still she says, “More, Daddy, please.”

This time, Sara is happy to oblige, slipping another finger inside her, moving her fingers faster, curling and pushing. Ava sighs and moans with every thrust, holding tightly to the counter to keep her legs from buckling beneath her.

“Sara!” Ava’s cry is sharp and quick and loud even Sara presses her thumb against her clit and Sara can feel Ava tightening around her fingers. “Sara, please. Don’t stop.”

She doesn’t, because the sight in front of her is too beautiful to risk losing. Ava is flushed and sweaty, trembling as she fucks herself on Sara’s fingers, as she grabs a fistful of Sara’s shirt to hold onto her.

Sara kisses her, hot and searing. “Come for Daddy, baby,” she whispers against her lips.

Ava cries out as she does exactly that, nearly losing her footing as she comes on Sara’s fingers. Sara keeps her in place with the weight of her body, moving her fingers slower, less rhythmically. Ava groans and shudders with each twist and curl of her fingers and when Sara finally slips her fingers free, she sighs, a sound of disappointment and contentment.

“See,” Sara says, looking at the disheveled woman in front of her. “That wasn’t such a bad idea, was it?”

It takes Ava a beat before she’s able to respond. “I’m still sure it was a bad idea,” Ava tells her, reaching for Sara, tugging her forward. “But it is a very good bad idea.”

Sara can hardly argue with that.

And she definitely can’t argue when Ava whispers, “Let me make you feel good, Daddy.”

Sara nearly comes undone right there, just listening to those words. The smirk on Ava’s face suggests that she’s well aware of this fact.

She might have underestimated Agent Sharpe after all.       


End file.
